


The Price of Teaslaughter

by Astray



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Charles did not sign for this, Community: asscreedkinkmeme, Connor can snark back, Gen, Haytham is a tea-addict, Haytham trying to be a father, Silly crack, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham loves his tea. Perhaps a bit too much. So when he learns that Connor actually dumped a whole cargo in the sea, Hell break's loose. With unexpected consequences. </p><p>Crackfic, no slash at all. Kinkmeme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Teaslaughter

Far from his homeland, and more often than not on the road, Haytham Kenway has long ago accepted that only the bare necessities could be taken. There was one exception – and exception that even made his parents smile as far as he can remember. It had started innocently enough, as part of his upbringing. High tea was something his mother particularly enjoyed – and something his father had to accept, though he did so with this particular wry smile of his. Haytham was never fond of the decorum tea required. However, he would lie if tea was part of the necessities. His necessities. Call him a stuck up old Englishman, but it would never make him forego his tea. And so, he was currently sitting in his Boston's abode, enjoying a cup of a particularly fine tea. A perfectly, slightly smokey, oolong blend. The kind of tea that would have him downing an entire teapot, if he were as liberal with his tea as Hickey was with others' ale. Needless to say, he was treading carefully. 

As Grand Master from the Colonies branch, a few privileges were granted to him. Tea was a sine qua non requirement. There he was, enjoying a fine cup, on a very fine day. He had even dragged an armchair on the small balcony to enjoy the sunny day. No one to bother him. No Charles to trail after him and just being there, like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head – not that the man was not efficient. But if Haytham wanted a pup, he would have adopted one already. No Hickey to be an overall nuisance and spoil his sight with his obnoxious behaviour. No one. A question still danced at the back of his head: where was Connor? Even though he knew the boy was his son, sometimes he had trouble thinking of him that way. He never particularly felt like he would be a father. There was no denying that Connor resembled Ziio, though he lacked her defiance, and her sharp tongue. For all he knew, Connor was too kind. And it would get the boy killed one day. He had already proven that. However, he knew that he should not wonder about the boy's whereabouts. It must be an uncanny resemblance between all children across the world: they never tell their parents what they do, unless they need something. Himself did it more often than not. 

Days passed. This day, Haytham was enjoying an Earl Grey russian blend. It was slightly different from what he usually had. The tea was a soft caramel, bergamot floating in the teapot, as tiny leaves. He sighed in contentment as he took a sip. Closing his eyes, he reclined in his seat, indulging in a rare moment of utter calm. A calm that shattered as his idiotic son barrelled in from the window. 

“Don't you know why houses have doors, boy?”

“That's besides the point. I did as you say and the contraband circuit is out.” 

Haytham finished his tea, and laid his cup down. “Fine then.” As he got up to follow Connor outside, he could not help but glance at his half-full teapot mournfully. Such goodness wasted. Oh dear. 

Later, Haytham just wanted to go back in time, just so he would not ask Connor how exactly he broke the contraband. 

“You did what?”

“Destroyed their tea supplies.”

“How?” Heavens, that was not like him to ask such short questions but he really felt rather faint at the thought. 

“I already told you! Are you even listening? We threw it in the harbour.”

That was it. He was going to kill the boy. He was going to kill him and hang him and justify it as perfect retribution for heinous teaslaughter!  
“Haytham?”

“Boy, if you where my heir, I would immediately disinherit you right now.”

“Shame that I'm not then.”

When did the boy get the right to talk back? “I am serious Connor.”

“So am I. Why are you so upset?”

“I am not upset.”

“And now you are childish to top it all.” 

Connor crossed his arms, unyielding. It made Haytham reconsider. And really, what was lost... was lost. No matter how much it pained him. 

“Honestly, you'd never have gotten your hands on the cargo, if that's what bothering you.”

The boy had a point. But still. “You would not understand.”

“Of course, as it would require you to actually talk to explain yourself, rather than throwing a fit.”

When did Connor start to talk back? Again. Haytham shook himself. Now was not the time. “It is none of your concern.” He needed to calm down. He had to go. And so, without a word, Haytham stormed away from Connor and down the streets. Back to his headquarters. He needed some strong tea. Assam would be great if he could have any. Scratch that, he needed it, he would have it. End of story. 

Never mind that Connor was left hanging in the street like that. Never mind that he originally wanted to praise the boy for his success. Tea was destroyed in the process. There was no way he could overlook such a blatant disregard for the most basic rules. Rule number one being, no tea shall be harmed. That was his creed. Not that hard to follow now, was it?

It took some time for him to calm down, and some more for Connor to actually come back to him. After all, they had a job to do. Never mind that Haytham was still sour about the teaslaughter. As if on cue, Connor arrived just in time – just when Haytham was having his tea. His umpteenth cup of the day, but he needed some respite from the paperwork anyway. For all his efficiency on the field, Charles was as bad as one Thomas for the paperwork. Though, where Hickey failed because he saw no point in it, Lee failed out of misplaced zeal. The details of the reports were so excruciating that one would miss the entire point of said report. Just to think about it gave Haytham a headache. 

“I suppose you are going to stay until you say what you want to say. Have a seat then.”

“Thanks.” Connor sat, as he always did, his arms crossed on the backrest of his chair. It sometimes annoyed Haytham, though he had to admit that it was a clever move. People usually see it as rude, while in fact it was so that Connor could dash from his seat much faster. Haytham closed his eyes as he drank his tea, nearly drowning in the slightly smoky aroma, feeling as if it curled around him, shielding him from the rest of the world, a comforting warmth spreading through him. 

“Do you have to drink tea so much?” 

Why did Connor have to speak? Haytham did all that he could not to cringe at the interruption. He cracked an eye open, catching the boy's expectant expression. Oh well.

“If you have to know, it is a very soothing beverage, something that I greatly need when dealing with you. And the rest of the idiots working for me.” Usually, he would not phrase it like that, but he was relaxed enough to let it slip. 

“I see...”

“Do you, now? Correct me if I'm mistaken but I don't believe that you ever had tea.”

“I tried it, and it was bitter.”

“Because it was badly prepared.” Right then, Haytham did something he never would have done before: he refilled his own cup and handed it to Connor. “Try it. I can assure you that it is not bitter.”

Haytham watched as his son took a cautious sip. Then another. And another. He could not help the self-satisfied smile that appeared on his lips. Connor caught his expression and immediately, though carefully, laid the cup back on the table. 

“I'm sorry.”

“It is quite alright. I take it that you like it?”

“Yes. As you said, it is not bitter. And pleasantly warm.” The smile that Connor sent his way would have made any father burst with pride. It simply made Haytham... a bit fuzzy, if he were the kind of man to phrase it that way. 

Certainly, having Connor try and like tea was a victory for Haytham. However, it had unexpected consequences. At first, he thought that he had misplaced his teapot. And then, and he discovered it after teaching Connor how to brew proper tea, that his very supply was depleting way too fast for him to be responsible. While he let it slip for a moment, when he was left with a pound of tea. And found it gone in the morning... That was another matter entirely. 

And so it befell that Charles Lee was looking for his adored Grand Master. And he searched the entire city, before he heard guards talk about a man in a dark cloak running across the rooftops, after a white-hooded figure. 

“Any clue why?”

“Nope, Wycliff heard 'em though. Apparently the one giving chase was raving about tea. No clue why.”

“Oh well, guess they are shipping more and more weirdoes to this place. Tell you what, soon, that place will be no better than an asylum, what with all the madmen coming.”

“Damn, and when I think I signed for ten years.” The second guard laid a sympathetic hand on the speaker's shoulder. 

“You'll survive. Just, better let the madmen do their stuff.”

Charles Lee did just that. And actually shook the entire city, looking for tea for the Grand Master. The guards did not know, but if it was as he suspected, it would take a great amount of tea for Haytham to ever calm down. He did not sign for this!


End file.
